Oblivious
by MonsterGirl3100
Summary: Dean is angry about a small mishap during a hunt and is unaware of what the real problem is until it's too late. Hurt!Sam One Shot!


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sam, Dean, or Supernatural

**Warning: **Kind of bloody and a bit gory & gross

**I make Dean look horrible in this! But that's okay we still love him!**

_**Takes place whenever you want it too…**_

**enjoy**

Sam trudges into the dull, dated motel room and eases himself down onto the bed. He hears the door slam and is startled by the sound.

"Seriously, Sam?" Dean says as walks on the grungy rug, "You couldn't have shot the damn thing? It was right in front of your face but you had to duck and let it knock me into the muddy pond water?"

Dean stops his rant to grab a motel towel to wipe himself of, he is completely oblivious to Sam clutching just over his hip bone under his jacket. Sam feels warm liquid seeping sluggishly through his fingers out the gash and the pain of a thousand white hot needles jutting at his side. Dean continues to paces the length of the room.

"You had one job, one job! All you had to do was shoot the freaking thing so I could salt and burn it's ass. But no, you ducked and let me getting all dirty and cold!" Dean huffed an angry breathe.

"Look, Dean I…" Sam tried to get at least a small explanation in. He was feeling dizzier and dizzier by the second. He was losing too much blood. _If only Dean could shut up for moment..._

"No Sam! Come on. This is a rookie mistake we shouldn't be getting dirty on a simple salt and burn from some little dude haunting a church."

Dean went on and on. _Was it really that bad Dean? Okay you got a little dirty but really, aren't you running out of hot air? _

Sam's vision was getting blurry and darkness threatened to overtake him as he saw it creep up from his peripheral vision. Sam just hung his head down to get his head under control. It didn't work.

Dean finally ended his rant with another angry huff of air. He looked down at Sam feeling that he deserved to know that he can't always rely on others during his hunt. Dean was about to walk to the bathroom when Sam moaned and started pitching forward. Before Dean could react he fell into a heap on the floor.

"Sam!" Dean called and he dove beside Sam who was now in the smallest ball he has ever seen his over grown brother in.

Dean pushed Sam's long mane out of the way revealing a pale face. Dean instantly goes to check for other injuries on his brother. He roles him over to an out stretched position and right away notices the blood. Dean almost has a stroke when he sees the amount of blood on Sam's hands. He almost completely dies from seeing the seeping wound on Sam's lower side.

"Jesus, buddy what happen to you?" Guilt washes over Dean, more like crushes him like a strong tidal wave. Though, he knew now wasn't the time to feel bad for himself. He gathers Sam's long limbs up to scoop him onto the bed.

"Damn kid, are you sure you only eat salad?" Dean says commenting on the weight on his not-so-little brother.

Dean first pulls off Sam's jacket the peels away his tacky shirt that is completely ruined with blood and rips it open to not have to pull it over his brother limp head and from his limp arms.

He grabs the first aid kit kept in his duffle bag and some motel towels. He wets one towel and puts another under Sam's lower back and injured area. He grabs the wet towel and dabs away the excess blood from the wound careful not to hurt Sam more than he already is. He then gets up to bring his own bag closer and pulses out a bottle of whisky and opens it. First he takes a swig for his self then pours it over Sam's wound. This definitely wakes Sam up. Sam arches up off the bed with a roar of pain. Dean forcefully pushes Sam back against the bed.

"Whoa, Sam you have to stay still okay? I have to stitch this up. Can you do that for me?"

Sam nods with watery eyes, and prepares himself for the pain to come.

"Alright, Sammy," Dean pats Sam on his shoulder.

Dean grabs a thread and needle out of his bag and threads the needle in preparation to stitch the wound.

"Okay, I'm going to have to stitch this up. You know the drill."

Sam nodded again.

Dean made the first stitch and Sam stirred a bit. Dean put a hand on Sam's chest and gave a reassuring look to him. Dean continued to stitch and stitch. By the twelfth stitch Sam passed out from the pain. Dean was glad his brother was out of it; he couldn't endure watching his brother's face scrunch in pain he was inflicting. Finally Dean finished and gingerly bandaged the wound and cleaned up Sam. He stood and looked at his brothers pale and still fame.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean says as tears bully him into spilling pass his lids.

Guilt and regret was all Dean felt. He couldn't bear to know that he could've helped his brother earlier if he were to pay attention and not be so caught up in his own drama. Ironic how he was lecturing Sam about paying attention and being aware when Sam was in this mess because _he_ didn't pay attention to him. Dean walked into the bathroom to take a cold shower and wash his own brother's blood off. He was ashamed of himself.

**The Following Morning: 5:09 a.m. **

Dean sat at the small coffee table after a sleepless night. Not that he expected to get any sleep or that he deserved it anyway. He was just watching over Sam and waiting for him to wake up. All his previous plans for the day were absolutely gone, for Sam's sake. He needed rest and couldn't get him hurt any more than he was.

About an hour or so passed when he heard moans coming from Sam. Dean bolted from his seat to Sam's side.

"Sammy?" Dean placed his hand on Sam's cheek feeling his temperature. He was healthily cool, so, good, no infection set in.

Dean then shook Sam's shoulder gently. Sam stirred some more and leaned into Dean's touch.

"Come on man open your eyes," Dean encouraged. "Sammy."

Sam's eyes fluttered open and after drifting around the room focused on Dean.

"Dean?" Sam mumbled, then swallowed, "I'm sorry"

"No, Sam you have nothing to be sorry for," Dean hung his head feeling the wave of guilt hit again.

Sam then tries to sit up but winces in pain and Dean pushes him back to the bed.

"No, Sam," He says again, "How do you feel?" Dean asks as he grabs another bottle of water from his bag and opens to give to Sam.

Sam takes the water and slowly sips from the bottle then speaks, "Sore." He simply says.

"Ughh, look man, I'm sorry for not noticing you were hurt I just…"

"No Dean," Sam cuts in assertively, "Look, I understand that you were just trying to get the hunt done quickly, we don't have to make this weird."

This makes Dean feel even worse for having a brother who will forgive him so easily.

"Sam, but I also should have been aware of your wellbeing, I'm sorry," Sam opens his mouth to counter what Dean says but Dean puts a hand up, "No, accept it!" Dean says raising his voice.

Sam knows Dean meant well in that tone, "Okay, I accept you apology, Dean and thanks for stitching me up."

Sam once again tries to sit up but much more carefully this time. Dean helps him to lean against the bed's headboard. They sit in silence for a few beats.

"Okay," Dean says breaking the silence "What happened? What did I miss for you to get hurt?"

Sam takes a breathe, "Well, you know the window we were thrown out of?" Dean nods and Sam sees when it clicks in Dean's mind where he is going with his explanation. "Yeah, when we landed the ghost threw a chunk of the broken glass at me. I tried to dodge it but that obviously failed. It then appears next to me and yanks the glass out. It all happened so fast, that by the time I got my bearings it gave you a bath in the muddy pond."

"Jesus, Sam…" Dean trails off feeling horrible.

"Hey, neither of us could have done anything and you're not superman so you can't save everyone. Look I'm alive and so are you. I'll heal up then we can move on."

_You can't save everybody_, Sam's words, linger in Dean's mind. _Yeah but I should always be able to save my little brother._

"Okay," Dean sighs and stands up, "Well you need as much beauty sleep as you can get, Death looks better than you," Dean says jokingly scrunching up his face in disgust.

Sam's cheeks dimple in and he eases himself back down on the bed to gets comfortable and to sleep in no time.

Dean shoots one last glance at Sam and then sits back at the table to get lost in his thoughts.

**Thanks for Reading!**

**Please Leave Reviews **

**{I apologize for errors, comment them and they will be fixed}**


End file.
